


natural villain

by lucigucci



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Gender-Neutral Apprentice (The Arcana), Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Naga, Naga!Lucio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:48:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25949128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucigucci/pseuds/lucigucci
Summary: (natural villain by the man who)Drawing in a shaky breath, you push the door open and will your light to reach every shadowy corner of the room. The light in your palm leaps to life to illuminate everything in sunbright glow.Out of the corner of your eye, something whips around the farthest bedpost, but it’s too gone too fast for you to see anything clearly. Your heart hammers in your chest. “H-hello,” you murmur. “I– I know something is here. I think I’d feel a lot better if… if you let me know where you are.”You think you hear something exhaling. Perhaps it’s your imagination.“I promise that I’m not here to hurt you,” you continue, turning around on the spot, casting your light under furniture, along the walls and floors, anywhere and everywhere. “I’m not an exterminator or a hunter or a soldier, I’m a magician investigating the Count’s death.”You pause, waiting, hoping, when–“Go away,” someone growls.
Relationships: Apprentice/Lucio (The Arcana), Lucio (The Arcana)/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 63





	natural villain

You’re a magician, not a big-game hunter, but after last night, you aren’t sure if the Countess’ request will force you to blur the lines.

When you couldn’t go to sleep after your meeting with her, you got started on the investigation early. Something drew you to the forbidden wing of the palace, down a long shadowy hallway, where the servants steered clear and whispers of bad memories followed you. 

When you opened the door on the far end you were met with an awful sight. It must have been a luxurious bedroom once– complete with a velvety four-poster bed and a life size portrait– but it has been reduced to a post-war battlefield. Ash and dust has settled over each piece of furniture. Tables and chairs have been overturned. And, most unsettling of all, there are trails cut through the blankets of black ash, bloody and serpentine and gargantuan.

You asked the Countess about it the very next morning. To your unsettlement, she told you she didn’t know anything about the trails. There was no way of knowing if the trails have been left untouched, grotesque and smearing everywhere, ever since the Count’s murder, or if there is a monster on the loose. 

By now, there is only one thing that you can think to do: chase your single lead and find this mysterious creature. After all, judging by the damage done to the room, it can’t be that hard to find an animal of that size.

The only trouble now is figuring out what you’ll do if you do find it.

You wish Asra was here as you stroll back through the halls to the dead Count’s bedroom. Now that daylight has broken, you might just have a chance to gather some crucial evidence that you missed in the dark last night. Of course Asra could probably track the creature with a wiggle of his fingers and a glimmer of magic but you’ll have to do things the old-fashioned way.

Somehow, the main hall of the forbidden wing remains just as nightblack, even though you know full well the summer sun is high in the sky. You have to summon a ball of light in your hand to see the way forward. The air here is musty, old, smelling of something damp that you can’t quite place. 

When you reach the bedroom door, you pause on the threshold. Something is holding you back. Something… is watching your every move. You felt it last night, and brushed it off as paranoia, but now you are certain that this is more than a hunch. “Hello?” you call out, hoping that nobody replies.

Your prayers are answered. You are still terrified. Drawing in a shaky breath, you push the door open and will your light to reach every shadowy corner of the room. The light in your palm leaps to life to illuminate everything in sunbright glow.

Out of the corner of your eye, something whips around the farthest bedpost, but it’s too gone too fast for you to see anything clearly. Your heart hammers in your chest. “H-hello,” you murmur. “I– I know something is here. I think I’d feel a lot better if… if you let me know where you are.”

You think you hear something exhaling. Perhaps it’s your imagination.

“I promise that I’m not here to hurt you,” you continue, turning around on the spot, casting your light under furniture, along the walls and floors, anywhere and everywhere. “I’m not an exterminator or a hunter or a soldier, I’m a magician investigating the Count’s death.”

You pause, waiting, hoping, when–

“Go away,” someone growls.

A shiver runs up your spine. You can barely form the words in your mouth, which has gone sanddry. “Who– who are you? Why are you here?”

“I said go away! Are you deaf?”

“No, I’m not deaf! And–” you square your shoulders and plant your feet on the plush ashy carpet– “I’m not leaving until I get answers. I have orders from–”

“Then turn the goddamn light off,” the someone snaps.

You bite your lip. If you extinguish your magic light, you’ll be utterly helpless, at the mercy of the invisible stranger in the room. You look back to the door, ready to run, when it slams shut, knocking the breath from your lungs as it closes.

“You want answers?” they ask. Your heart is pounding too loud to distinguish where their voice is coming from. “You want the truth? Oh, I’ll give you _everything_ you want to know. Every juicy detail about the night of the final masquerade. Doesn’t that sound fun, little magician?”

“All I want is justice,” you squeak.

The voice chuckles. “So do I.”

You whip your head around the room. Against your will, your light is slowly dying, stifled by pressing smoky darkness. Where are they? _Where are they?_ “You– you have to promise not to hurt me!” you say. “O-okay? I’ll extinguish my spell, like you want, j-just don’t hurt me, and I won’t hurt you.”

There is another lingering silence. At last, they reply, “I can never pass up a deal. I accept.”

None of the tension leaves you at their words. Your fingers curl into a fist and your eyes close as darkness envelops you. Each of your other senses heighten tenfold with the loss of your sight– every creak of the foundation, every trembling breath in your chest, is amplified. 

A soft thwump sounds around you in a perfect circle. Something heavy has fallen from up above you. _The ceiling! You didn’t check the ceiling! What kind of idiot–_

“How strange,” they hiss, so close to your ear you can feel their oddly cool breath on your skin. With a yelp, you stumble backwards, and fall into something muscular and cold. A susurrus across the carpet is your only warning before it shifts around you, coiling, squeezing, pinning your arms to your sides and preventing your legs from kicking or running.

“You promised you wouldn’t!” you gasp.

“I’m not hurting you, I’m restraining you, sweetheart.”

“This isn’t fair!”

“Not fair, eh? Not… ah…”

You furrow your brows. It might not even be worth it to try to fight back. “What is it?” you ask.

Someone’s fingers trace up your cheek. Their touch is gentle, but their skin is clammy and calloused. “You’re warm,” they murmur. “I forgot… it’s been so long, I forgot humans are…” They withdraw from your face with a cough, although they refuse to release your body. “Erm. Right. That was weird. Sorry, that was weird.”

“Yeah, that was weird,” you echo.

“It’s just– I haven’t seen anyone for years. Haven’t let anyone see me, anyway.”

Tentatively, you ask, “what… are you?”

“I’m the Count of Vesuvia.”

Your heart skips a beat. “The Count? But– everyone thinks you’re dead! You died in this room!”

“Well, maybe that would be better,” he snaps back. “You should see your face, little magician, you look _terrified_. Just imagine how you’d feel if you could see me in all my disgusting glory.”

You weren’t expecting to find the Count of Vesuvia, still very much alive, in his own room, and you certainly weren’t expecting whatever the hell he’s talking about. “Count Lucio,” you mutter, and the thing holding you lessens its grip, “I want to see you. I want to help. I… was hired to do a job, and… and I want to see the job through to the end.”

“You want to help me,” he scoffs.

“Yes, I–”

“You can’t help me! Nobody can! I’d rather be dead!” he roars into your face. A foul smell hits your nostrils, a mixture of rotten flesh and musk. When you gag and recoil, he pulls away. “The kitchens are too far away,” he hisses. “Too bright. I can’t leave this wing or I’ll be seen.”

“Why won’t you let anyone see you? Don’t you want them to know you’re still alive?”

He continues as if you haven’t interrupted him. “I couldn’t help myself. After weeks of starving myself, I had to eat. I’ve been living off the rats that hide in the shadows, just like me. Disgusting, isn’t it? Aren’t you repulsed?”

“Count Lucio, I–”

“And this body, this hellish body– I tried to claw it off, you know. Tried to peel the scales off one by one. Nothing worked!” 

Scales…? As you try to comprehend these words, your bonds squeeze tighter around your body, and all of a sudden it makes sense. The marks in the carpet. The soft fleshy coolness of your cage. The dreadful smell. “Count Lucio,” you whisper, “how did this happen to you?”

He growls. “Big fluffy asshole with horns. He went back on our deal and took away what I loved most.”

“What you loved most?”

“My body. Everything I had… the last bit of myself that I owned… and now I’m this big ugly monster, all thanks to him. I wish he just killed me when he had the chance.”

You wish more than ever that you could summon your light again. Although your eyes have adjusted a little to the darkness, you can’t even make out the Count’s silhouette in front of you. “If you were cursed to be this way,” you begin slowly, “I might be able to help you. I practice magic, after all, so maybe I could reverse the spell and get your body back.”

“You could? Really?”

“Well, I was supposed to invesigate your murder, but since you aren’t dead, I guess my duty to Vesuvia is to help you.”

“Then what are you waiting for? Fix it! Go on, that’s an order!”

You furrow your brow. “Er… Count Lucio, I don’t think I can do anything if I can’t see you.”

Lucio pauses, eerily quiet now. “You have to promise,” he breathes. “Promise you… won’t run. Or scream. Or attack me. Or–”

“I don’t have any ill feelings towards you, Count Lucio, I swear. Magician’s honor.”

The coils around you loosen, just enough to allow your feet to touch the floor and for you to straighten up. With a relieved sigh, you flex your arms. “Let’s get this over with,” he grumbles.

Magic flies to the tips of your fingers to illuminate your way. Blinking in the new golden light, you glance around the room, and almost at once, you regret your decision. The body of a monstrous yellow snake is curled around you. Its scales are dull, ragged, patchy, and greyish dead skin clings to the exterior. From your vantage point, you estimate that it must be– Gods, it must be at least fifteen feet long! A gasp breaks free of your throat before you can stop it and somebody scoffs overhead. You jerk around to look up just as he begins to speak.

“Well?” he demands. “Go on. Work your magic.”

“I– I’m not sure I–”

A twisted smirk cracks across his pale pointed face. His cheekbones are sickly hollow, and his tangled platinum hair hangs in greasy snarls past his shoulders. Both grey eyes are sparkling with malice, even brighter than his left prosthetic arm, which appears to be forged of pure gold. “I’ve never eaten a human before,” he muses, “but I bet you taste better than rats. You smell better, at least.”

Your heart drops. “You need to keep your end of the deal,” you whimper.

“Then keep _your_ end, little magician.”

“Count Lucio, I… I don’t think this is any normal curse. This is serious.” Your gaze lowers from Lucio’s face, down his shining white torso, past his prominent ribs, examining the scales melting into his skin, connecting him to his serpentine body. 

He must have noticed because his grin widens and he lowers himself to you, resting his elbows on one of his own coils to look you in the eye. “My eyes are up here, dollface,” he teases.

“S-sorry.” Heat rises up your neck to your cheeks.

“I used to be ten times as pretty. Could you imagine?” He tightens his body ever-so-slightly around yours, just enough for his scales to brush against you, savoring the surprise written across your face. “Oh, I bet you could. If we knew each other back then, I’m sure you wouldn’t have been able to keep your hands off me.”

“Count Lucio, I, er– I didn’t mean to–”

“Get my body back and I’ll give it to you to use. However you’d like. Doesn’t that sound fun?”

It does sound fun. Also, you don’t want to flirt with a married man, no matter if his wife thinks he’s dead. So you back away with the little space he has granted you (about half a step) and reply, “I’ll d-do my best. It might… take some time. Some studying. But I’ll do my best. And, er…” You reach behind you and place a cautious hand on his body. He tenses under your touch but doesn’t move away. “We could start with cleaning you up, if you’d like. My Master’s familiar is a snake so I know how to get rid of your shedded skin.”

The word ‘shedded’ makes him visibly wince. Despite this, he puts on a brave face, and nods. “Y-yeah. Good. I guess that’s… a fine idea. Might as well look presentable.”

You try on a comforting smile. “That’s right. Just lie back and relax, and I’ll take care of things. I know it must have been difficult on your own.”

He shrinks away from you to hide his face. Part of you hopes that he’s blushing. “At least somebody gets it. It took them long enough to send you.”

“Uh… yes, Count Lucio.”

He uncoils from around you to lie flat on the ground. His human torso relaxes on the carpet a few feet away, just a bit less tense, although his suspicious eyes watch your every move. “I didn’t catch your name,” he says.

You sit down next to the nearest portion of snake and rest your hands on him. This time, he doesn’t wince. “MC,” you answer.

“Mm. Cute. I like it. Keep it.”

“Uh… keep it?”

“Yeah. Keep it.” He raises his eyebrows at you. “Don’t you know names can be shed? It’s unhealthy to be labelled one way for so long. I just think MC suits you.”

He’s buttering you up, you just know it, but you can’t help the flutter of pride in your chest. “Just… relax. Tell me if anything hurts.”

“You’ll do just fine, MC.”

You nod. This isn’t how you expected this day would go– however, in hindsight, this situation isn’t wholly that bad. Not that bad at all.

And, after all, you always did like snakes.


End file.
